


Scraps

by TheDivineStarling



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, implied Hannigram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4721063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDivineStarling/pseuds/TheDivineStarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her close call with the Dragon, Molly Graham visits Hannibal in prison to set a few things straight. </p><p>“And what kind of life does Will want then? To be with you? To murder people?” Molly’s voice rose and she stared at the creature in disgust. </p><p>“Not murder. To change.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Molly Graham wore her visitors badge like a medal of honor.

 

Stepping in to the halls of Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane was far from wise on her end but she was determined to take her white lies to a whole new level. The bullet wound in her shoulder still ached, the raw pain constantly reminding her of what had caused all of this. That cause had led her here, sinking into her mind like a sickness until she could think of nothing else. Molly had survived many things- the death of a husband, the uncharted territories of single parenthood, the fear of the unknown, and the embrace of a newcomer. Will had tripped in to her tattered life just as the tape and safety pins keeping it together began to lose their grip. He had offered her something stronger to hold it all together— stability. Will had come with hammer and nails clasped in his hands and secured everything in to places where they were sure to keep their hold.

 

Only now were the nails beginning to slip from the walls.

 

Molly’s arrival at the hospital was met with a variety of looks. She watched as unfamiliar faces begin to change shape as she spilled information about herself to the head of the department. In a matters of seconds and spoken words she watched as she went from being a stranger to a martyr, an unfortunate being tangled in the life of a broken creature. Will’s reputation cast a shadow over her strength and she found it harder to carry herself upright.

 

“Keep your hands away from the glass. If he tries to give you anything, refuse. Do you understand?”

 

Past the oak doors lay a cell unlike anything Molly had ever laid eyes on. The décor was set up in such a way that Molly felt as if she were walking into a zoo where the top specimen was kept on display to those willing to pay and view. Laid out on the cot near the back wall behind the glass was the body of the creature that had spilled into her life through the cracks of her husband and she approached the glass, staring at him with distaste. He was less handsome than he had appeared in the papers and she felt a sickening rush of glee knowing that this once proper and pampered man was wasting away in a make believe cell behind closed doors. His eyes were closed as if he were sleeping but Molly knew better than to mistake his lack of interest in her for slumber.

 

“I take it that you failed to rid him of that tasteless aftershave.”

 

Molly crossed her arms in front of her chest slowly. “Why put a good Christmas gift to waste? He likes it. Deal with it.”

 

A smile cracks his lips but Hannibal’s eyes stay still and shut. “I’ve been dealing with it much longer than you have, Molly. The memory of it is something I often visit.”

 

“That’s Mrs. Graham to you, Dr. Lecter.”

 

In the stillness of the room lay a heavy fog of tension that fed the fire that had started to smolder in the pit of Molly’s stomach. Here was this being that had screamed up at her from so many newspapers, in the flesh before her. How many times had she imagined meeting him? How many nights had she stayed up pushing a cold towel to Will’s brow after he had woken up shaking and screaming beside her? All of Will’s suffering had stemmed from the damage done by this man.

 

Like a statue coming to life, Hannibal unfolded himself from the cot and snapped his eyes open to take in the woman before him. Through the holes in the glass he could smell Will’s aftershave, the earthy sweetness of cedar and grass, mixed with dog hair and the sting of a child. Her skin still held the smell of the hospital where she had recently been released from and Will’s scent was even stronger on her than he had expected.

 

In the gaping holes of his eyes raged a storm of jealousy that Molly couldn’t help but feel proud of.

 

“Mrs. Graham.” Hannibal says the name slowly, sounding out each syllable as if the very words caused his tongue to swell. “What has brought you here to visit today of all days?”

 

“Look,” Molly wasn’t into word games and she knew Hannibal had the tendency to get cheeky. “I don’t know what your deal is but I want you to stop playing these games with my husband. Stop sending people out to kill us, stop making this investigation into a game. It’s over, Hannibal. It’s been over.”

 

“Tell that to Jack Crawford. The only person controlling this game is him, Molly. I warned Will not to get involved in anything Jack came to him for. Did you not warn him to do the same?”

 

Molly felt a stab of regret but she spoke through it. “I pushed Will because I wanted him to save those families. I never knew he would think to go back to you.”

 

The doctor smiled and he held his head higher, gazing through the glass at Molly like a lion staring down a gazelle. “Then perhaps you don’t know your husband as well as you would like to think, Mrs. Graham.”

 

Silence. A chill ran through the air and for a moment Molly felt like there was no glass between them and no rules. She wanted to run up and punch the smile straight off his smug face until he bled. “Will isn’t part of your world anymore, Dr. Lecter,” she glared at him, shoulder aching with the weight of her wound. “He’s done perfectly fine without you for the last three years.”

 

“Has he now?” Hannibal stepped closer to the glass and his eyes appear to glint in the dim light of the room. “Has it ever occurred to you Molly that perhaps the only reason you are even in Will’s life is because I’ve allowed it?”

 

“That’s no-“

 

“Your husband, your child, your dogs, the entire life you’ve built together has only been possible because I saw to it that Will achieved a false sense of freedom by allowing myself to be locked away. Turning myself in provided Will with constant knowledge of my whereabouts, musings, and antics. He would never be able to free himself from the thought of me.” He fastened his eyes on her, pupils dilated. “How well do you think you know your husband, Mrs. Graham?”

 

The flames in her stomach swelled and she felt sick at the feeling of those eyes on her, staring straight through her in to the very core of her skull. Her jaw clenched and she kept herself still, refusing to lower her guard in any way. Hannibal was a subject Will had avoided talking about during the last three years and Molly had pardoned him from providing an explanation due to his history of loss. “I know my husband, Dr. Lecter.”

 

“Do you? Has Will informed you of his trip to Italy? Has he explained to you the reason for the scar on his belly and the cut along his brow?”

 

“Yes, all of that was you.”

 

“But did he explain why? What type of victim has Will managed to paint himself as in order to win your devotion, Molly? What stories has Will whispered to you in the dead of night, like fairytales? What uncomfortable details has he left out, I wonder?”

 

“Head games, Dr. Lecter. I’m not playing them,” she snapped. “No more games; not from you, not from Jack Crawford, no one.”

 

The louder her voice rose the wider the smile spread across Lecter’s face. She was just the sort of person Will would pluck out of the crowd to hide behind. She was the perfect addition to his person suit, and Will had fashioned his to mirror hers stitch by stitch. It made it easier to live day by day waking up beside a person who appeared to be just like you when in reality (beneath the child, the dogs, and the wood workings of a secluded country home) was a monster.

 

Molly was incapable of seeing beneath the surface.

 

“Any person who chooses to keep Will Graham in their life is an immediate player, dear Molly. It’s only a matter of time before Will realizes that this life he’s built with you is not the life he wants for himself.”

 

“And what kind of life does Will want then? To be with you? To murder people?” Molly’s voice rose and she stared at the creature in disgust.

 

“Not murder. To change.” Hannibal can smell the blood from the hole in her shoulder and hear the elevation of her pulse. She was strong but her strength was nothing but a whispered prayer in a chapel filled with hymns. This was his palace and she had no power here. “Will is only ever truly himself when he’s with me. When the paper mache rots off, will you be able to love what resides underneath?”

 

“He’s not your art project, Dr. Lecter.”

 

“You’re right.” He raises his chin a fraction higher, staring unblinking at Molly Graham with a high sense of satisfaction like a demon who had won a bet. “It’s you that’s his.”

 

He was like a wall made of steal but held the illusion of glass. Hannibal radiated elegance and strength but something bright and terrifying shun from inside him, hot and blinding as the sun. The longer Molly stood before him the more likely she was destined to burn. With a heavy breath she took a step back from the glass, head still held high despite her desire to retreat. “I’m more than just scraps, Hannibal. I know I didn’t marry a stranger. Will’s a good person, he would never harm me.”

 

“Not harm. Change.” He reminded her quickly. “You claim you are more than scraps but you fail to see how much Will has already been forced to swallow. Or what he is willing to.” Hannibal paused, taking a long moment to stare Molly down and commit her to memory before he turned his back to her. He carefully made his way over to his bunk and picked up his book, no longer giving her his full attention. “Run along now, Molly. I would enjoy what moments of your borrowed life you have left before the dragon strikes again. I would see to it that you also keep this meeting between us private or risk upsetting your husband.” He smiled lovingly down at his book and deep inside Molly’s gut she felt a twist of jealousy. “He always has a habit of coming to me when he’s upset.”

 

There was no use continuing the conversation. Anything Molly said the doctor deflected and she felt more aware of her physical form than she had upon entering. A deep rage twisted itself in the pit of her stomach and she felt the urge to plunge her hand through her skin and rip it out. Tired and speechless she turned and walked out through the double oak doors in to the florescent-lit hall. Everything outside of Hannibal’s cell felt like a rude awakening from a fairy tale.

 

Molly returned her badge to the desk and left, feeling unworthy of the honor it had given her upon entering.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Scraps Chapter 2

Hey everyone! Sorry this took awhile, I’m juggling two jobs and every time I sit down to work on this at my desk job I never end up being able to get in to the flow. Thanks for all your support and reviews, I’ll be coming out with something a bit more lengthy in the future hopefully. 

 

There was a cold chill in the air that morning. 

The front door of Molly’s home creaked open repeatedly to let in the flow of guests, each eager to shred their coats and hats in search of warmth and comfort. Molly was hesitant to provide it, her entire being moving as if she were set on automatic, flowing through the same motions she had gone through in the past.

The death of a loved one was something worth mourning.

Jack had informed Molly Will had died long ago. 

There had been no funeral; the police department of Baltimore had mentioned a service being held but Molly wanted no part of it. Instead, for the sake of her son, she had decided on holding a reception one Sunday afternoon. It had been three weeks since Will’s disappearance and the house still remained untouched; every jacket, sock, book, and coffee cup still resided where Will had left them the morning he had taken off. For Molly, his presence in the house was frozen with no forceable future. 

But dead? No… Molly couldn’t bring herself to accept that. 

Everyone came dressed in black. The first people to arrive were her relatives, almost every one of them adorned in the same collection of dark fabrics they had worn for her first husbands funeral. She kept her comments to herself, holding her bitterness in her throat as she greeted each one of them in turn. Wally was in front of the T.V, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a freshly ironed white shirt. Molly wore a deep crimson sweater, a pair of jeans, and a smile made of resin. 

Then the others began to trickle in.

Molly hadn’t expected many others. To those outside her family, the case of Will’s disappearance was a heavily troubled subject. When she had received the phone call at five in the morning she had fought with every unknown voice on the other end of the line until she could speak to Jack Crawford. When he finally spoke, Molly could read the discomfort in his voice. That alone had been enough to confirm exactly what had happened during the transportation of Hannibal Lecter.

Their faces were unfamiliar but their introductions weaved together with various stories Will had told her over the years. First came Brian Zeller, closely followed by a man named Jimmy Price. They dripped with awkwardness but were determined to keep a light air of humor in the room, despite the reason for their visit. When Molly offered very little to their conversation they zeroed in on Wally and joined him over at the T.V where the baseball game was playing live. Their arrival meant more were certain to come around and Molly found herself fidgeting nervously with the band of her wedding ring. 

It was so much harder to pretend when she wasn’t the only one in the room pretending. 

The smell of food wafted through the air as each person came with some sort of dish to share. It was a common custom and Molly moved herself in to the kitchen, looking over the assortment of sandwiches, desserts, bottles of wine, and casseroles. There was more than enough to go around and Molly inwardly found herself relieved that she wouldn’t have to cook any time soon. Cooking had never been her forte’ and there was nothing in the back of her freezer but a bag of pizza rolls and some leftover venison. As people began to gather in the kitchen to snack, Molly pushed her way past the crowd to check on Wally. 

“Are you Molly?”

A cold breeze swept through the room as two women stepped in through the screen door. The dogs surrounded them, tails wagging in excitement as the second female carried in a small child, attempting to shut the door behind her with one hand. Molly recognized the first one, watching as she untangled a pair of earmuffs from her dark hair, cheeks lightly flushed from the cold. There was a look of steel in her eyes, one that matched that of Molly’s; she couldn’t help but find a bit of peace knowing she wasn’t the only one on her guard. 

“Alana Bloom. I remember you from the hospital.” Molly reached out her hand in greeting and Alana shook it. 

“We offer our condolences.” The other woman stood rigid beside Alana as she spoke. She had set the small boy down but held tightly on to his hand as if anything within a ten foot radius of her would kill him. With her coat and gloves still on she extended her hand out to Molly in a stiff greeting. “My names Margot, I’m Alana’s wife. This is our son.” 

“Nice to meet you.” She shook her hand and noted the scent of expensive perfume and the well tailored fabric of their clothes. They were two beautiful beings dressed up in lavish goods yet appeared skittish, like a shadow was looming over them. The child stood quietly at her side, hand limp in his mothers as if he had given up fighting to get away long ago. Molly met Alana’s eyes bravely and all she found in the depths of them was fear and pity. 

“I take it you’re not planning on staying,” Molly say slowly after a moment. 

“We have other engagements. But we wanted to stop by to see you.” Alana paused, wrestling with the words glued to the tip of her tongue. “Jack wanted to stop by but I told him it was better if he didn’t. You have enough to deal with.” 

Silence. The bitterness grew stronger in Molly’s mouth and she fought hard to keep it from spilling over, to stop playing this game of charades. All three of them stood in the doorway of Molly’s home, robbed of their voices, unable to say what they truly believed. 

Molly let out a dry laugh, hardly audible over the sound of the baseball game on the TV. “You can tell Jack Crawford that if he really wishes to offer me his condolences he can do so by staying far away from this place.” 

“He knows.” Alana nodded her head, shutting her eyes. “He knows it’s better. He… we let you down.”

“You let him out.” Molly’s voice cracked, the first spark of fire leaving her lips. She knew Alana and Jack had been the ringleaders of the entire operation and Will had been the bait. “You let him out, you thought it was a good idea-“ 

“We were desperate. There wasn’t any other way we cou-“

“You knew what what happen if they came together again.”

Margot nudged Alana’s shoulder. “We should go.”

“Molly…” Alana kept her voice low, staring the other woman down. “I really… am sorry. We made a mistake. I can’t let Jack take the full blame for this, not when I was there beside him.” 

The commotion had caused a ripple of unease to run through the house. Wally peared over the edge of the couch from the baseball game while Molly’s relatives mumbled to each other from the kitchen, trying to make sense of who the two women were. Zeller and Price stared down Alana with a pleading look, not wanting her to make things worse when things were already a mess. 

It was a game.

They were all just players in the same game and every single one of them had lost. 

“You know,” Molly took in a steady breath, voice dropping as everyone began to go about their business once more. “When I came to see him that day, Hannibal told me to enjoy the rest of my borrowed life. He made sure to let me know that he knew Will better than I did… than any of us.” She looked up in to Alana’s eyes, void of emotion. “And maybe he was right. Maybe Hannibal saw something in Will we were too afraid to acknowledge. But if my presence in his life made getting to Will that much harder, than my role wasn’t a waste.”

Margot swallowed and she glanced at Alana, nodding. “We did what we could.” 

It was a strong statement, far stronger than anything Alana could bring herself to give. She stood before Molly, overwhelmed by the fire she gave off even when her role in this story had been so small and stagnant. 

“Yes.” Alana whispered. “Yes we did.”

 

The Verger’s left shortly after, disappearing in to a black stretch limo that had stayed running outside of the house while they made their visit. Molly ghosted about her house, weaving between people and offering minimal conversation as she wondered whether or not that was the last time she would ever see the family in her lifetime. Within the following hours she was beginning to grow sick of the remaining guests and she helped herself to a few glasses of wine. Darkness came quickly and she clicked on the porch light and slipped out in her jacket to feed the dogs, eager to feel the cold sting of winter against her face. She was heady with alcohol and it helped to keep her from pushing everyone out of her house in to the wilderness and away from her. Price and Zeller were the next to leave and she offering them both a hug in exchange for keeping her son entertained, finding their parting to be almost bittersweet. 

When she returned inside her family was busy putting on their coats, all drunk and full of food, faces flushed. Even her mother seemed to be in good spirits and Molly did her best to keep her anger down as she corralled them all out the front door in to the cold. To them, Will’s death was nothing but another chance to come together and take advantage of another persons hospitality. Wally’s birth had been the same and so had her first husbands death and the death of her father. There was very little genuine sadness involved and Molly found herself feeling thankful that the Verger’s, Price, and Zeller had decided to stop by. 

It made her feel better knowing Will had been loved so much by so many.

Wally was passed out on the couch with the remote pressed beneath his arm when Molly finally found herself alone in her home. The tables were covered in half empty glasses of wine and plates of uneaten food and she carefully gathered them up in to her arms before dumping them in to the sink for later. In the darkness of the kitchen she could see the remains of all the food dishes laid out across her table and noted that the only thing that had been completely consumed had been the bottles of wine. Deciding it would be a good idea to eat, Molly fetched herself a clean plate and began to fill it with bits of casserole, mini eclairs, and vegetables. There was an entire chocolate pie, a basket of breads, a cheese tray, countless dishes she could save for later and give to Wally while she put her life back together. As she neared the edge of the table her eyes caught sight of a dish closer to the window and she stopped in her tracks. 

In a clear glass vase was an assortment of bacon wrapped roses. The meat was wrapped tightly atop each green stem, perfectly coiled and placed in the exact spot where flower petals had once bloomed before they were plucked away. The meat smelled of rosemary and thyme and they were cooked to perfection. Attached to the vase was a hand written card secured with a black ribbon which Molly found herself carefully removing so she could read the inscription:

Dear Molly,

Your husband is in a better place. I offer you my deepest condolences. May the life you borrowed make room for a dependable future.

The card bore no signature and Molly turned it over to see if there was more on the back. When she found nothing, Molly stared at the vase in silence, trying to pinpoint who might be skilled enough to create such an offering. Perhaps Margot had left it or maybe Price or Zeller. But none of them had appeared to come in with something so lavish after stepping foot through her door. 

The sweet smell of meat caught her nose and Molly felt her stomach twist after being empty for so long. Entranced by the artistic display of the roses she slowly plucked a rose from the center of the vase and brought the meat petals up to her mouth. The sweet saltiness of the bacon caught her tongue and she bit down in to the tender bundle of meat without thought or hesitation. 

“Ouch!”

Immediately her teeth struck something hard and she clutched the side of her face, quickly spiting the bacon petals on to the kitchen floor. Her teeth throbbed painfully and she began to taste blood, shocked by the sudden pain.

‘What… what was…?’

Shakily Molly looked down at her feet. Amidst the unfolded petals of meat was a glimmer of gold in the darkness. A sickening wave of horror overtook her and she sunk to her knees, heart flittering inside her chest like a caged bird.

Will’s wedding band lay still against the wood floor.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be an epilogue coming in the next few days following after the events of the season 3 finale for your pleasure. Stay tuned!


End file.
